reflection
by dustofwarfare
Summary: cloud strife is trying to figure out who he is, and what he wants. cloud x rufus.


Cloud doesn't dislike Rufus Shinra, not exactly; he doesn't trust the man, certainly, and he doubts Shinra would expect anything of the sort given their history, but there's something about the other man that sets Cloud's teeth on edge. He's not a man inclined towards affectionate or warm greetings, even with those he considers friends, but his reception of the cool-eyed president of Shinra is downright chilly, almost hostile, every time they have occasion to meet.

Which, following that debacle with Kadaj and his brothers, is more often than Cloud would like. Shinra might be serious about making amends for his company's transgressions, but why that means spending so much time with _him_, Cloud doesn't know. Cloud suspects there is some kind of political intention behind Rufus' continual requests for meetings, but he's too tired to think about untangling the knot of intrigue that make up such maneuverings. He just wants to have a drink at Seventh Heaven and play cards with Marlene, listen to Vincent tell him esoteric things that don't make sense and tease Tifa about her budding romance with that bald-headed Turk who keeps hanging around the bar.

Cloud just wants to be himself, whoever that is, instead of some patchwork version thereof; threads held together by bits of Mako and the dreams and expectations of other people. He has saved the world, once and maybe twice, and to him that means he's earned a few months of quiet reflection.

Apparently not, though, because here he is, facing Rufus Shinra across a desk in the newly-built Shinra headquarters here in Edge. It's not a spiraling tower with reinforced steel walls (they have better PR than that, at least), but an open, airy structure with soaring glass ceilings and plenty of light. There are flowers throughout, blooms alternating between the familiar and the exotic, but the calming and deliberately transparent surroundings don't fool Cloud for a moment. If anything, it's a reminder not to forget that Rufus Shinra is a man possessed with a shrewd, devious nature - as if that expensive, immaculate white suit of his wasn't enough to convey such a message.

"I'm so pleased you agreed to meet to discuss this with me, Cloud," Shinra says, though Cloud can't, at the moment, remember what it was they were discussing. He'd drifted off somewhere during the inane pleasantries stage, which perhaps was a mistake. He has to keep his guard up around Shinra. There's no telling what debacle he'll have to face next, if he doesn't.

"Yeah, sure," Cloud says, shrugging. He's always felt a bit out of place in offices like this, no matter how much light streams through the windows or how pleasant his reception. Shinra, and men like him, were the ones who made decisions like _we're going to engineer people to be weapons_ and _let's make sure we don't destroy the remnants of the thing that almost killed all of humanity_. He shifts in his chair, annoyed at himself for the direction of his thoughts. There's no indication Shinra is planning some grand scheme that will end in death and destruction.

Then again - did they know what would happen, the last time? Did they know what the reactors would do, what it would mean, when the first one was built? Was the very first Shinra president even aware of what might happen, or did he set plans in motion because he really believed it was for the best for all of them?

Fuck, that's a depressing thought.

Cloud realizes Shinra's said something, again, and he rakes a hand through his hair and snaps, a bit more forcefully than he means to, "Sorry, what? I wasn't listening."

Rufus Shinra smiles at him, politely, as if there's nothing wrong with Cloud's demeanor or, Cloud admits to himself, his uncalled-for rudeness. But there's a brief hint of something in those cool eyes of Shinra's, some brief shadow of tiredness that suggests maybe Shinra is as tired of this as Cloud is. Maybe Shinra wants to be someone else, too. The man has his own set of expectations and disappointments to shoulder, just like Cloud. It's just that Rufus' are made of silk and linen instead of steel.

"I thought you might be interested in helping Shinra with some trade negotiations with Wutai," Shinra continues. "We want to make certain there's no cause for hostilities, and as we've seen, it goes better for Gaia if her people are all united instead of divided."

Cloud stares at him with ill-concealed suspicion. "Oh yeah? I thought maybe you wanted another war with them, so people could blame that for their problems instead of your company."

"We don't have the resources to fight a war," Shinra tells him, and the smile is the same as ever, but there's some glint in Shinra's eyes that Cloud would swear was amusement. "But I've heard worse ideas."

That thaws something between them, and Cloud's expression relaxes - not quite a smile, but isn't a hostile glare, either. "I'll bet. I've met Reno. But I don't know why you think I'd be any good at negotiations. I usually just kill things," Cloud says, bluntly, because it's true. No one ever wanted him to save the world by talking.

"And Shinra usually just strong arms our way into whatever we want," Shinra says, shrugging elegantly. He's young, Cloud realizes, wondering why he's never noticed that before. The light coming through the windows behind Shinra makes his fair hair gleam like a halo. Cloud would bet his last gil that was on purpose. "Don't you think maybe it's a good idea to try something else for awhile?"

Cloud can't really disagree with that, can he? Not when he still dreams about blood, not when he still wakes up gasping with his hand pressed to his chest, _it's nice to see you again, Cloud,_ and _You're my living legacy_ echoing in his head like screams.

"Maybe," Cloud allows, cautiously, wondering if maybe there's more to Shinra than he thought; if the man is motivated not by dreams of power and domination, but rather by nightmares of what it almost cost to achieve them. "Tell me what you were thinking," he asks, and this time, when Shinra speaks, Cloud listens.

* * *  
He doesn't like Rufus, not really. He just finds him interesting.

Cloud tells himself this as they meet again, this time at the Shinra president's private residence, an immaculate and tidy apartment in a nondescript building close to Shinra's new headquarters. It's not large or lavish or even particularly comfortable, but Rufus seems proud of it nonetheless.

"I always lived in buildings my father owned," Rufus tells him, moving easily to the small kitchen to find glasses and pour them both a drink. "My penthouse had a bathroom the size of this entire apartment. And I think it was a guest bathroom." Shinra looks, momentarily, like a naughty little boy caught opening presents before Christmas. "But this place, this is all mine."

Cloud takes the proffered glass more out of reflex than any desire to drink; he shouldn't, his equilibrium is shaken enough by the realization that he's attracted to Rufus. He's been trying to deny it for the last week or two but he can't, not anymore, he's too aware of the other man to chalk it up to anything other than what it is. It's so breathtakingly simple a response, purely physical, with none of the guilt and uncertainty Cloud is used to when it comes to this sort of thing.

_Aerith, did I want you because Zack loved you, or in spite of that? Which is better?_

Cloud does not find it easy to want things. He's never sure if it's really him, or the lingering remnants of someone else, that wants them. And then he thinks maybe that's just an excuse, because wanting things means being disappointed when you don't get them.

But he wants Rufus Shinra, at least on the physical level. He thinks sometimes about kissing him, tasting Rufus' mouth and shoving rough hands under the smooth material of Rufus' suit. Cloud thinks about pressing his thigh between the other man's legs and it makes him feel hot all over, at night he lets himself think about it with a hand on himself and he doesn't wake up from any nightmares, just falls into a heavy sleep with a sheen of sweat on his brow and a slight, satisfied smile on his face.

Rufus is talking, earnestly - he's very earnest, Rufus, which is something Cloud has noticed about him that he didn't expect - and Cloud should be paying attention but he's not, he's watching the way Rufus moves and the casual gestures he makes and wondering if he should try and kiss Rufus. Cloud has no idea how to do this; dating is a mystery, and somehow it's even more frightening without the imminent threat of death and world destruction. He sips his drink because he wants to try something and he needs the courage, and for once, Cloud feels like any other awkward young man his age, trying to figure out if he'll be rejected or accepted, if his advances will be spurned or returned.

It's thrilling, in a way. Something so ordinary and yet so frightening - not fighting for the world, just seeing if he can get laid. Cloud finishes the drink in one swallow, remembers that this is what he wanted, this _normalcy_, being thrown off balance by such relatively simply matters.

Zack wouldn't have this problem, not with his easy words and tempting smile, there were few people he couldn't charm into bed if he set his mind to it. And Sephiroth, with that burning presence of his, danger melting from him like wax off the side of a candle held under flame - it was captivating, terrifying, but undeniably attractive in its way.

But this? This is just him, Cloud Strife, awkward and intense and completely unable to find the right words to ask for what he wants.

Rufus is suddenly _right there_, standing in front of him, and he takes Cloud's empty glass away and puts it on the counter behind him. His smile is warm like the liquor running hot in Cloud's veins, heating his blood. He's looking at Cloud with something like a challenge in those pale eyes, chin tilted, insufferable in ways that makes Cloud want to do things to him and shove things in his mouth.

"Need some more of that, Strife?" Rufus murmurs, eyes heavy-lidded, and it's obvious why he brought Cloud here and that if Cloud doesn't make a move, Rufus_will_. But Cloud knows what he wants, and it's not that - not this time, anyway. He wants to do this, be aggressive, take something he wants just for himself. Not to save the planet, not to be anyone's legacy. Just because he fucking _wants_ to. And oh, how he wants to...

"Not of that, no," Cloud says, and reaches out, slowly, watches his fingers curl into the lapel of Rufus' nice suit jacket. He pulls the other man in, closely, walking forward at the same time to press Rufus back against the counter. He's always been better with gestures than words, no matter what. Might as well stick with what works, right?

"Ah." Rufus tilts his head, smirks again, legs easily spreading for Cloud to slide his thigh between them just like he'd thought about, just like he'd wanted. "I'm sure we could discuss whatever it is you want, instead."

"We could," Cloud agrees, and smiles - it's his smile, small and secret, quiet, like everything else he's beginning to figure out about himself. "But we're not going to." He leans down and kisses Rufus, mouth hot and eager, too rough already and so hot for it that he can't worry about things like where to put his hands, or what to do next, or how this is supposed to go or how it will end.

He just kisses him, feels Rufus kiss him back and bite his lower lip, hard, and oh, that's good, Cloud wants more of that, more of all of this. He sighs and lets himself do what feels natural, hands fumbling and making a mess of Rufus' nice suit, wanting to touch skin and burning up with simple, straightforward desire.

They pull away, at length, both breathing hard and staring at each other. Rufus' eyes are wide and dark, the pupils dilated and Cloud sees his own reflection there, just himself and no one else. As far as beginnings go, it's enough.


End file.
